Resident Evil: The Linear Compound
by Lady Frost1
Summary: Leon and Ada and Chris...oh my! What happens when Leon and Ada cross swords over a new target?...The one man Albert Wesker can't forget. And the only one who just might have the keys to his destruction.
1. Chapter 1

**So here I decided to play around with some post RE4 and some pre RE5 ideas. We'll find out where Leon goes after saving Ashley and what his next assignment will uncover. We'll have fun with old friends, new friends, and alternate universes filled with freaks, freaks and more freaks.**

**If you like it or hate it, read and review. Either way, enjoy.**

Prologue:

The roar in his head was becoming a dull thrum.

Water was water was water was water. And it seemed to go on forever.

At some point, he'd stopped loving the view of the sun, sinking steadily beneath the rippling edge of the horizon, offering fingers of light and mischief to the water that spread like a blanket of freedom before them.

His sense of direction faltered, skewed temporarily at times by the endless monotony of the landscape.

Essentially, they were going north, though sometimes it felt they were going in circles.

Ashley would speak sometimes, careless chatter that only temporarily extracted him from the cave of his own thoughts.

She was warm when the sun would set, her body snuggled tight against his back. He could feel her breathing deepen with sleep and his own eyes burned in desperation.

He couldn't even REMEMBER the last time he'd slept. It had probably been days.

If he could remember when he'd actually arrived in that putrid village to rescue her, that might have given him some clue as to what day it was.

He was hungry, he was tired, and he was hurt and hurried.

The water never seemed to end. It went on and on and on.

And with the water, his mind seemed to roll. He could picture faces locked in agony, hear voices screaming for freedom, for release.

He'd granted it. He'd given them peace.

Every one that had stepped into his path had laid down to rest.

He'd saved the day. He'd saved the girl, completed the mission, slayed the bad guys.

So why did he feel so empty?

It might have had something to do with being grouchy, tired and starving. Or something to do with having not taken a shit since what felt like the dawn of time for fear that would be the moment someone burst in to annihilate him.

It could have been any number of things.

The adrenaline was wearing off and he could feel every bump, bruise and battered place on his body like a red hot poker shoved into his flesh.

And the icing on the crap filled cake was that he was horny.

Ungodly, penis about to burst the zipper of his pants, find-a-dark-hole-and-fuck-it _horny_.

He couldn't even get up enough restraint to tell the woman pressed so tight against his back about any of this. Why?

She was the president's daughter. The apple of his eye. His pride and joy.

Leon Kennedy wouldn't have touched her for all the gold in Midas's kingdom.

It wasn't that she wasn't pretty. Or willing when it came to that. Hadn't she offered him "overtime"?

It was that he was one of the "good" guys. And the good guys didn't save the girl and then defile her with a neck breaking cum shot to the face.

As far as President Grant needed to know, Leon Kennedy was a eunuch. Or would be, if he laid one grimy finger on Ashley.

The water went on and on and on. And Leon suffered silently, navigating the jet ski like a pro. Which is precisely what he was. A professional.

Though he felt more like a sack of blood and bones and boredom.

His mind was still racing quietly when the helicopter found them.

And still whipping madly when they were lifted to safety.

And still twirling uselessly right up until they were on the flight home and his exhausted body finally, blessedly, thankfully, passed into oblivion to revive.


	2. Chapter 2

**In this first chapter, we uncover a bit of an ongoing love affair between two of our favorite characters. A little bit about what was waiting for Leon at home, and the ground work for what will propel him into his next assignment...and just who the target will be to be taken into custody.**

**The story builds here. And the action begins in the next chapter. **

**Thanks again for reading!**

ONE:

Later, he'd think it was a dream.

The filter of moonlight made it mostly surreal and his brain was still locked somewhere between waking and rest.

She slid onto him like a wet glove.

Her body rose, slim and bright, her hands against his chest to steady herself as she took him so deeply into her body her thought they'd become one.

He might have protested, had his brain not simply shut down from pleasure.

It was a wet, facile ride; filled with panting breath and desperately clutching hands.

Over her, under her, watching her eyes or her breasts or her skin, pulled taut and delicious over delicate bones.

He tasted from her, took from her, and gave of himself in return.

Thighs and thunder and the lightening of greed that streaked from sky to groin and heart.

He filled her, fingers gripping hips, head thrown back in wonder as he spilled himself into the heat of her body. Again and again and again.

It was wonder and amazement and hunger that drove him to take her on the bed, on the floor, against the wall. And she was a lioness, stalking and taking her prey with practiced, primal grace.

The rain beat the window, the world ceased around them, filled now only with the soft whine of her pleasure, the thick rasp of his own.

He whispered, "God."

And she answered, "Leon…I'm sorry."

And the darkness took the world again in a trembling line.

…….

The sun was in his eyes, the black lenses of his glasses keeping it from frying pupil and iris.

He hadn't showered that morning. Couldn't bring himself to.

He was afraid, if he did, he'd wash away her scent and the last sign that she hadn't been a dream.

It was the second time she'd come to him like that.

Quietly, like a shadow, slipping in to love him in the dark of the night and leave him.

After Raccoon City, for years, he thought he'd dreamed her. Her hands, her eyes that watched him as he rose to fill her. Her voice that had whispered of love with such sadness it had lived inside him like an open wound.

He'd thought it was a dream. Convinced himself it had been. Because he'd thought she was dead.

Now he knew otherwise.

The games she played in the light of day irked him. Because again she'd come, slipping onto his body, stealing his soul.

Ada Wong. The woman in red. The piece of himself he couldn't let go.

The first time, he'd seen the shock in her eyes when she realized it wasn't just the first for them, but the first ever for him.

She hadn't just stolen his heart after Raccoon City. She'd stolen his virginity.

And slipped away like a thief into the night.

Since then, he'd had women. Not a lot but enough.

And each time he'd slid himself into the body of a woman, he'd seen her eyes.

It had taken him years to convince himself he'd forgotten her.

And then, vulnerable, exhausted, he'd fallen upon the bed in his hotel room and left himself open for her attack.

And she'd taken him. Stolen away his convictions that she meant nothing.

He turned the wheel, angled the truck into the driveway beside the red Miada parked there.

The Miada was filled with boxes.

Brows lifted, Leon stepped from the vehicle. The house was simple. White siding and red awnings. A flower box filled with Iris no longer in bloom.

He opened the door to the house to find her there, gingerly packing china in another box.

Her blonde hair was held off her face by a sloppy ponytail. She wore pink, powder pink, in a track suit that framed her thin shoulders and long legs.

Leaning on the door frame to the kitchen, Leon watched her and said nothing.

Finally, unable to take the silence, she turned to face him. "Wow, you actually came back."

He lifted both brows at her. "Did you think I wouldn't?"

Shannon Ferguson, the only woman he'd ever attempted to live with, and one of the only ones he'd ever attempted to love, studied him.

"Hard to say. You leave, without a word, in the middle of the night. I don't hear from you or see you for almost a month. What should I have thought, Leon? That you got lost on your way to McDonald's?"

She turned to continue packing China.

"I was working. You know that. You know what my job is like."

Shannon shook her head again. "You're a Federal Agent. But you told me, you promised me, it wasn't going to be like this. You said you might be gone for a day or two sometimes. A DAY OR TWO. Not a fucking month."

"I'm sorry." And he was. "I would have called if I could have. But it wasn't an option."

Shannon slammed down a set of salt and pepper shakers, shattering one. "Oh really? You gonna tell me you were on a secret mission in a secluded village thousands of miles from here?"

He would not laugh. He knew she was being sarcastic. If only she knew how right she was.

"No phones. No running water. Just a bunch of evil gang members holding some government official hostage. And, of course, sending in only one man to save this VIP." She snorted at herself, dumping the broken pieces of the salt shaker in the trash. "This isn't a movie, Leon. And that plot is way too tired to even dignify."

Leon said nothing. She was dead set against believing him now in any case.

"It's my job, Shan. You know that. You knew it when you moved in."

Furious, she chucked the pepper shaker. It hit the wall an inch from his face and he didn't even flinch. "I had to go to my engagement party ALONE, Leon. ALONE. Can you even begin to understand that? My fiancé went missing two days before our engagement party."

Leon took a step toward her and she lifted a hand to hold him.

"On top of that, he comes back looking pale and starved and smelling like another woman."

Damn.

Maybe he should have taken the shower.

"And I'm supposed to shake it off and say, oh well, he was working."

She grabbed her box, hefting it. "Sorry. No dice. I'm out of here."

Leon stared at her for about three minutes before he turned, started down the hallway and shed his holster, tossing it negligently over the couch as he moved.

He could hear her cursing as she slammed in and out of the house.

He freed himself of his black shirt, undid his belt to take off his pants. And the slamming of the door was lost under her footsteps.

She was standing in the doorway looking at him.

He knew it was a helluva sight. His back was covered in bruises, his chest not faring much worse. He had taken a hatchet in the shoulder, a bullet in the thigh. He probably looked like hell and felt worse.

"God, what happened to you?"

He turned his eyes, and looked at her through a veil of dark blonde hair.

"I was at an orgy. Fucking every chic in sight. Sometimes, things get out of hand." His voice was laced with sarcasm.

Shannon shook her head, stepping toward him. "God, why do you do what you do?"

He shrugged, walking in his briefs to the bathroom to flick on the light and wash his face.

Her voice followed him. "You're not going to ask me to stay?"

He considered her in the reflection of the mirror. He loved her. Maybe more then he had ever loved another woman.

But never, ever, in the way he loved Ada Wong.

"Why? We both know I'll get called away again. And that you'll hate me by the end of it. Better to make the break cleanly now."

Her face went from sympathy and pity to anger. "Fine. You asshole. That's just fine. And bruises or not, I can SMELL her on you anyway."

She said her in a way that implied she just KNEW who he'd been with.

And off Shannon went again, slamming doors.

Leon, ignoring her, moved to the bed and fell face down upon it.

She was leaving him. That was fine. He couldn't even find the energy to care.

He asleep, dead to the world, before she'd even made it out the front door.


	3. Chapter 3

TWO:

_Somewhere in the Mylan Jungle…_

The crunch of his boots beneath him was sometimes the only thing that made him realize he was alive.

He was bathed in sweat, the stench of his own flesh having long since eradicated any other scent. It was cloying, filling his nostrils with noxious glee.

He couldn't even remember when he'd arrived anymore.

Months, weeks, days; it was all a blur.

The thunder of his own heartbeat was loud in his ears. Huts lingered around him, some thatched, some brick. Most were downtrodden, bringing to life their third world roots in the falling in roofs and slightly oppressive air.

The road he traveled, mostly dirt, was devoid of presence. Not a single person, not a single form of life; save for the swaying branches of the trees above his head.

The heat was a pressing, liquid hand. It rested on his chest and tried to steal the air from his lungs.

His hair was matted to his forehead and god knew what was playing in the sweat along his spine. His jaw was thick with whiskers, giving him what had to be a man of the mountain look.

He was bleeding. From scrapes, from bruises, from bites that he'd scratched raw. The bugs in the jungle were the size of horse flies. And while you slept, fitfully, dreaming of peace, they ate the flesh from your bones.

He could have given up. Could have gone home. But Chris Redfield was a man on a mission.

Because somewhere in this jungle were answers he'd been hunting for for seven years.

He'd find them. Or die trying.

….

He crouched over the body, the eyes had long since gone dead; the body itself having begun to decay in a way that left the senses reeling in disgust.

He'd smelled worse. Hell, he'd seen worse. He'd stared death in the face and fucked it's still bleeding skull.

But this body hadn't just died. It had burst, seemingly like an exploded balloon, spilling guts and blood and filth over the bamboo strewn ground beneath his boots. It looked like Joe Jarhead had swallowed a grenade and suffered a bad case of indigestion.

The outfit was standard issue Marines, white, white, white. Or it had started life white. Now it was brown and crusty and filthy with fluids he didn't even want to guess at.

Gloved fingers divested the body of its identification. The weapons the man had been wearing were already lost to prying hands.

It was a shot in the dark to hope the man was Redfield.

The driver's license claimed the corpse belonged to a William Langtree. A shot in the dark that hadn't paid off.

But Leon pocketed the wallet, intending to return it to the States and to poor Langtree's relations.

The heat here was ridiculous, it pressed down on his chest and lungs like a wet blanket made of steel.

He rose, resplendent in black fatigues. Kevlar vest over black nylon shirt, cargo pants, and boots. The black held sweat like a sponge, but at least the sweat kept his body hydrated. Even if it was with its own wasted salt. The trick of salty liquid would confuse his nervous system for awhile, convincing his body he wasn't suffering from heat stroke.

He drew a bottle of water from the pocket of his pants, sipping delicately.

His brow was soaked in sweat, his hair plastered wetly to his head. He wasn't going to be winning any contests for beauty in next twenty four hours, but if intelligence paid off, he'd be leaving with a fugitive.

Redfield had evaded the government for years.

Leon wasn't a fool. He knew the man he was tracking was the brother of the woman he'd survived Raccoon with. He knew, it was likely, that Redfield wasn't a bad man. But the government had him listed as high priority. He knew something. Something they desperately wanted to know.

And they'd tracked him for six years to learn it.

Redfield had left little signs but enough that Leon wandered if he'd been deliberately allowing himself to be tracked. He was setting up an elaborate trail, pieces here and there. A fingerprint, a follicle of hair, a forgotten pair of pants; just little things that any normal person might have forgotten to dispose of behind themselves. But Redfield hadn't gotten into S.T.A.R.S. for being normal.

He was better then that. He'd wanted them to find him.

Three months prior, he'd stopped running. They'd tracked him to the Mylan Jungle in the outskirts of the middle of nowhere.

The jungle itself was one of the last surviving pieces of uncivilized beauty.

It was inhabited. Mostly tribes and a few obscure scientists studying the wildlife. But there were no McDonald's, no Starbucks, no paved roads. Everything was dirt, and grass, and biblically simple.

Leon glanced through the curving, curling trees lining the jungle around him. He hadn't seen daylight without the cover of foliage in days.

His boots crunched, over twigs and bamboo and something worse.

He made his way through the sun dappled heat, listening to the cry of animals he couldn't even begin to guess at. The shifting of branches beneath paws that likely waited to tear his head from his shoulders.

Leon stopped, listening, as something moved off in the underbrush to his left.

His hand moved, slowly, tugged the gun from the holster on his thigh. He wasn't sure why, but every alarm in his head was going off. Maybe it was Raccoon City, maybe it was dancing with _los plagas_, maybe it was everything, but he was waiting for something horrible to explode out of those bushes and go for his throat.

There was a click of a gun behind him. "Don't. Don't do it cowboy, don't."

Leon froze, the gun extended out to the side. "Take it easy."

"Drop it, hot shot."

He did. He let it fall and heard it crackle into the bamboo at his feet.

"Redfield?"

"Who?"

That didn't mean anything. The man could have been playing stupid.

Leon lifted his hand, showing it empty. "I'm gonna turn around."

"Do that and I'll blow your fucking head off."

"Take it easy, guy. Just relax. I'm unarmed."

"Bullshit. You got a knife bigger then my fucking forearm strapped to the front of that pretty vest. What you're gonna do, is very slowly take the vest off and drop it."

Leon frowned. The man couldn't be Redfield. Redfield wouldn't have been that stupid. Letting Leon lift his hands wasn't smart. For all he knew Leon had a subsequent gun strapped to his stomach beneath the vest. It was suicide to allow his hands to move out of sight.

Leon shrugged, moving his hands to the latches on the vest.

"Slowly, ass wipe. Slowly."

"Sure." Leon unlatched the first strap, moved to undo the second. "I'm not here for you man. I don't even know you. Do yourself a favor and run. I won't stop you."

"You're a fucking idiot man. An idiot. Do you even KNOW what's out here? I'm not leaving without that vest, that gun, and everything else you got strapped on your pretty person."

Leon frowned again. Fear. He could smell it. It came off the other man in palpable waves.

"Sure, guy. No problem." Leon undid the last strap and let the vest fall. Even as it fell he pulled the knife from its sheath.

He was down and spinning even as the first shot sounded. It whizzed, nicking his ear and screaming off into the jungle beyond him.

A bird sounded, peppering the air with a warbling cry.

The man dropped to his knees. His chest was pumping blood from the knife sticking out of his torso like an arrow.

"Fuck." He was filthy, eyes wild, hair matted with more grime then seemed humanly possible. He started to cry even as his fingers gripped the hilt of the knife and the gun he'd hold dropped forgotten into the bamboo.

He wasn't a warrior. No. He was stick thin. He looked starved and desperate and so afraid it hurt Leon to look at him.

The man laughed, dry and scared. Crying through his tears.

"Oh fuck…" Leon moved, catching his shoulders as he started to fall forward. "Oh fuck man. Fuck."

"It's okay. Just breathe." Leon gripped him, trying to get those desperate eyes to focus on his face.

"Thank you." The man laughed again, sobbing and sad, hands grappling at Leon's shoulders, "Thank you. At least…a..t…least thi-this…" He hacked, blood spilling down from his mouth. "…way…I won't turn into…into…one of THEM."

Leon pressed his hands over the gushing wound, trying to stem the flow. "One of what? Of what?"

"Them, man. Them. They're EVERYWHERE. You can't run, you can't hide. You can't even KILL them. The most you can..can…do….is.." He started to shake, crying so hard the words were hard to make out. "…pray. Pray. Do you hear me? Pray."

"What are they?" Leon shook him a little. Though his eyes were glazed now, his mind dying even as the life blood pumped out of his heart through Leon's gloved fingers. "What are they?"

"They…" The man jerked, deaths beginning dance. "…are the darkness…the darkness…the darkness man…and the darkness doesn't care how much you scream…"

He convulsed, convulsed, consumed by death's clawing greed. And the blood poured, thick and wet and hot between Leon's pressing hands.

But the man didn't feel anymore. Didn't see.

And somewhere beyond the artificial silence that had fallen in his demise, something began to roar.


	4. Chapter 4

_Okay so here's the dealio…I haven't written in this story since…eh…05? About the time I finished playing RE4. Since then, 5 has debuted and busted up some nuts with its fabulousness. I've decided to come back and see what this story has to say. This is good. Because it had merit. I'm going to retool it a little and make it pre-5 still and leave the dates alone but change up where the story was originally planning to go. This might have connected to BSAA but I think I'll let it stand alone. That way I can play with the characters and give them a larger playing field to run on._

_We'll see a few strange love triangles here (no Leon and Chris though for those of you who are wondering because though I am a great fan of the man on man I just don't see it between those two boys). Obviously a little Ada/Leon and Leon/mystery girl. I'll have a few OC's but none that will be involved more than temporarily in the tale. No Leon/OC so worry not. _

_Chris probably won't get a lover here. Although I've dabbled with it and we'll just have to wait and see. Obviously I'm still flying high on Chris and Sheva but that could change here as well._

_After that LONG note. Here we go._

**THREE**

Other men, in this instance, would have run screaming for the hills. But Leon Scott Kennedy (the third) came from a long lineage of men with steel spines. He'd been born anew in Raccoon City and groomed by the best in the world to face down nightmares and not blink.

So when something began roaring much too close for comfort, Leon Kennedy didn't run. He started planning.

He'd come equipped for battle. He carried his Desert Eagle, he had his shotgun looped over his back, he had the knife strapped to his front. And enough ammo to kill everything that came at him.

He'd learned his lesson with the Ganado. He wasn't going in with just a handgun. No thank you.

Leon picked up the dead man's gun and clicked the safety, sliding it into his side pocket of his pants. Never hurt to have more weapons.

The roar sounded again. Closer now. Maybe a ten minute run from him.

Leon scanned the jungle. He figured he had a few minutes to find cover before he was attacked. He could climb a tree and wait it out. Or turn, stand, and wait for some face to face time. Or-

Time was up.

The roaring thing came barreling out of the trees closer then he'd first thought. It was a lion, or had started life as one, its golden body warped and stripped in places to the naked muscle beneath. It's face had teeth as long as his forearm.

Leon lifted the shotgun and fired.

The beast was smart, it leapt to the side and sprang. The shotgun went off again as it soared over his head. Blood rained down, spilled from its belly as the buckshot tore into the soft flesh. Leon rolled, the air whizzed by, and the beast hit the ground inches from where he'd been standing.

It roared in anger at its torn belly but didn't stop. It rushed him and Leon couldn't do anything else but run. He caught the edge of a tree and started climbing.

Claws slashed the bark below him, catching the edge of his pants and scraping the skin beneath. The back of his thigh burned as he climbed, grasping a low branch and swinging up. He kept right on climbing until he was high above the ground.

Below him, the lion paced, snarling and snapping and rushing the tree with its bulk trying to dislodge him. The thing had strength; Leon stumbled as it rammed the tree and grabbed the trunk to hang on.

Well…this sucked. What could he possibly do stuck up a fucking tree?

Time passed, he wasn't sure how long. He tried to fire a few shots at the beast but the lower branches obscured his aim. And if he went any lower, the damn thing would leap up and eat him.

Leon wished he'd grabbed grenades before he'd gotten off his transpo. That would have come in handy here.

Something thunked on the ground below him. Leon narrowed his eyes, scanning the leaves and earth, trying to see what it was.

Raw meat?

It was the dead guys hand and arm, severed from the rest of his body. And the hand held-

"No shit." Leon muttered in surprise a second before the lion ate the arm, the hand, and the grenade it had been holding in a single gulp.

Leon gripped the tree, turned his face into it and waited.

The boom was so loud it dislodged several flocks of birds, sending them soaring into the air with shrieks and screams of rage and fear. Blood geysered up from the blown apart animal, splattering the ground and trees with chunks of flesh, bone, and bloody remains.

Down below him, silence ensued. What was left of the lion looked like some macabre version of a Jackson Pollock. Otherwise known as a big mess with no real point.

"Hey!"

Leon pointed his Desert Eagle at the voice.

"Hey up there! Tarzan! Maybe you want to come back down and join the rest of us."

Tarzan? Say what?

"I realize you're scared of the big bad kittie but I took care of it for you. So you're safe to come on down."

Scared?! He most certainly was NOT scared. Though he might have been a little unnerved at one point.

Leon called back, "Identify yourself."

There was a sigh from below. "I've been sent by the BSAA attachment in the Congo to assist you in collecting, capturing, and returning fugitive Redfield, Christopher D. But I can't help you do that if you're hiding up in a tree all damn day. Would you like me to radio back and let them send a replacement?"

Seriously? Was she serious? Did she even KNOW who he was?!

"That won't be necessary." Leon started to climb down. "But you'll have to forgive me if I don't just take you at your word. I'm going to call HQ and get confirmation."

"Sure. Knock yourself out." The voice returned. "I'll just wait down here amongst the guts, Princess. It's a nice way to spend an afternoon, nice and scenic."

He seriously hoped she wasn't his partner for the op. Because she was kind of a mouthy bitch. And he hated mouthy bitches.

He'd spent years trying to get one of them out of his system.

He radioed HQ, gave his access code and waited to be connected to Barry Burton. Burton was in charge of the North American Branch of the BSAA. He'd been the one to send Leon on this little fun jaunt. He'd also been the asshole that had told Leon that his first assignment with the new organization was going to be "cake". Just a little body guarding, no biggie. RIIIIIIGHT.

"Burton."

"You send some mouthy chic in to back me up?"

"Well hello to you too Agent Kennedy. What's the weather like in the jungle?"

"Save it Barry. I've got some woman down below giving me shit and claiming she's from the Congo attachment of the BSAA. I need to know if she's legit."

Barry chuckled. "She's legit. The Congo needed a good field test for her that wasn't going to be too dangerous. I told her you're one of the best and you're just out on a little search and discover mission. They jumped at the chance to send her along."

"You asshole." Leon snapped congenially. "She's rude. And she just spoon fed a dead guys hand with a grenade to a lion the size of an RV. This isn't going to be a little search and discover mission."

Barry was quiet for a long moment. "You want me to send more back up?"

"No." Leon responded, climbing down the tree. "Too many people make too big of a ruckus. But something is going on here. I found a dead marine and encountered another who'd gone crazy from fear of whatevers out here. I had to neutralize him."

Barry sighed. "There's some talk that the Mylan was a test bed for military fronts at one time. You're probably finding the ones who went to train and then went MIA."

"Would have been nice to have this info BEFORE I came in here."

"It's been almost a year since anyone's gone in to look for the missing guys. Didn't think it needed mentioning. Figured they were just dead to the elements."

"They're dead alright, Barry. And mother nature didn't do it." Leon leapt to the ground. "Find out where they were training in the jungle and send the coordinates to my GPS. I'll take the rookie and head toward the site and see if Redfield left anymore clues."

"Roger. I'll get Claire on locating the coordinates. She'll work doubly fast as it's her brother."

"She gonna be okay with me bringing him in Barry? I don't want her to make trouble for herself."

Barry laughed a little. "She's glad its you doing it man. She knows she'll be level headed about it."

"Good to know." Leon turned and faced the woman who was leaning against a tree trunk, picking her fingernails with a knife. "Over and out."

He disconnected from HQ and slipped his sunglasses up on his head. "You check out."

"Obviously." The woman slipped her knife back into her vest. "Don't you think I would have run otherwise?"

Leon licked his teeth an obvious sign of annoyance. The woman was pretty, clad in a skin tight black tank and combat fatigues. She was the color of coffee with three creams, her skin flawless and taunt over attractively muscled shoulders and arms. She wore gloves on slender hands and had dark shiny hair pulled back in a slick ponytail tail. Her eyes were dark topaz, showing flecks of gold in the spill of sunlight.

He put his hand out and she took it, giving it a solid shake.

"I guess you know I'm Leon Kennedy."

"Yep." She flashed a brilliant white smile. "Your reputation as a lone ranger is pretty much the running joke of my unit."

Nice to know. Leon felt himself shutting down and locking himself away in that place he had that caged and hid all his real emotion. He didn't like this woman. Didn't like her one bit. She was rude, disrespectful, and being gorgeous didn't help her shitty attitude one bit.

Leon turned away from her to scan the jungle. Evening was coming, fast and furious. Daylight was burning and the last thing he wanted was to be trapped in some kind of hell hole with Satan's Bride.

She ducked in front of him, waving her hands in his face. "Hey there Tarzan. You want my name?"

"Sure." Leon eyed her coldly. "Dazzle me doll. I'm all a flutter with anticipation."

Satan's Bride's smile became a huge grin. "Maybe we'll get along okay after all. I'm Sheva Alomar."

Leon's retort was cut short as the trees rustled above them and something big, black, furry, and ugly came barreling down atop their heads.


End file.
